Financial Nightmare
by Poecilotheria
Summary: Working for an eldritch entity of pure nightmares is not the easiest job, but Customer Service manages. Mostly.


Customer Service really hated his job sometimes. Like right now, seated at the far end of a ridiculously long table, staring at his boss seated at the opposite end. Nightmare was currently in his smaller form, leaning forward and staring back at Customer Service over his tented fingers.

"We are low on funds," the eldritch intoned. Customer Service leaned forward, trying desperately to hear him from so far away.

"Pardon?" he yelled.

"What?" Nightmare responded, before growing frustrated and shouting "Come closer you fool!"

"But you told me to sit-ugh," Customer Service mumbled, making his way towards his employer and taking a seat in a closer chair. Nightmare fell back into his serious demeanor.

"We are low on funds," he repeated.

"Shocking," Customer Service drawled.

"I know. With my business aplomb and devious sales tactics, it is hard to believe."

"I was being sar- you know, never mind," Customer Service groaned, slipping his hands beneath his glasses to rub at his face. "What's going on?"

"I would like your opinion first."

"We should stop selling to people with outstanding debts." Nightmare rolled his eyes and Customer Service prepared for the bare-faced stupidity about to roll off his boss' tongue.

"Nonsense. We are generating loyal customers," he scoffed, waving his hand dismissively.

"Loyal customers who don't pay," Customer Service pointed out. Nightmare narrowed his eyes.

"Are you doubting my methods?" His voice was low and dangerous, sending a shudder up his employee's spine.

"Of course n-not!" Customer Service stammered. Nightmare sighed and leaned back, crossing his arms.

"So the cause is a mystery then."

"Er, yes, a total mystery."

"Then we should implement cost-cutting measures," the creature said, resignation in his tone. Customer Service brightened up a bit, his pragmatic nature jumping at the bit.

"We could sell some of the décor. Like this table," he said, knocking at the wood surface. Nightmare shook his head.

"Vital business expenditures," he huffed.

"What? You barely even have dinner guests! You turned the last guy inside out because he said space fortresses were cliché!" Customer Service cried.

"And I am certain he was duly impressed prior to his unfortunate demise."

"You keep commissioning giant portraits and statues of yourself! Those purchases add up! Why do you even pay them?!"

"Are you suggesting I not pay an artist? I am no savage," Nightmare sniffed.

"You keep buying endangered animals just to make them fight to the death!"

"Scientific curiosity, not that you would understand such a thing." Customer Service resisted the urge to scream and instead rubbed at his temples.

"What were your ideas?" he groaned, not really wanting an answer. Nightmare put a clawed finger to his chin, thinking.

"You do eat quite a bit," he said.

"I barely survive off of coffee and cup noodles."

"I saw you eating snack cakes yesterday," Nightmare said accusatorily.

"I bought that with my own money. It is my only shred of happiness" Customer Service whimpered. Nightmare tapped his chin as he went back to scheming.

"Hmmmm… do you use those legs often?" Customer Service glanced down at the biomechanical prosthetics he possessed in place of legs. They were the only reason he'd agreed to work for this farce of a company. Well, that and the imminent threat of death by disgruntled cosmic horror. He then glanced back up at his boss with a mixture of fear and irritation.

"I use them for walking. I used them to walk here," he deadpanned.

"Hm, I forget that pathetic organisms such as yourself lack the ability to levitate or teleport. My mistake," Nightmare huffed. There was a long pause before the eldritch brightened as an idea struck him.

"Organic humanoids such as yourself can subsist on only one kidney, correct?"

"You can't have my kidney! I need my organs for things like, you know, living!" Customer Service squawked, instinctively shielding his abdomen.

"Oh come now, just choose your favorite," Nightmare cooed, his sickly tone making Customer Service want to retch.

"The surgery would put me out of commission for a while and you'd have to do the paperwork yourself!" the terrified man stammered. Nightmare visibly slumped, tapping morosely at the table.

"…Branding," he said suddenly.

"We… already have a brand. You spent a century coming up with the whole NME thing," Customer Service said, confused.

"Merchandise. Useless baubles and clothing with my logo and other such filth."

"I'm not sure about that…"

"My pathetic traitor of a son has gaggles of morons treating him as a god! Certainly I must command an even greater legion of groveling apostles!" Nightmare cackled, dark energy roiling off his form.

"They're called fangirls, and they want to…um…have relations with him," Customer Service corrected, cringing at the thought. Nightmare seemed to give pause at this before he solemnly nodded.

"If I must, I suppose I could utilize my considerable sex appeal," he sniffed, causing Customer Service to let out an involuntary barking laugh. He then clapped his hands over his mouth as his boss glowered at him. "Is there a problem?" Nightmare growled, his words dripping with menace.

"N-No, I- I was just thinking about h-how pathetic Meta is compared to y-you!" Customer Service squealed. Nightmare caught one of his employee's shoulders in an iron grip, sighing and shaking his head.

"Poor, poor Customer Service…" he sighed.

"Please don't throw me into the fifth dimension… I don't have time to babble in arcane languages and bleed from the eyes for five hours."

"Oh, my unfortunate little worker, you know I have very little skill in coping with my anger."

"M-maybe talk to your therapist-?" Customer Service was cut off as his boss effortlessly hurled him into a portal. He groaned and rubbed his face with his hands as he floated through the new space. Most of what he saw could only be described with nonexistent words, aside from another man floating nearby. Customer Service squinted at him.

"Are you the therapist?" he asked. He rolled his eyes as the man only screamed in response. "I thought so," he grumbled, feeling a warm liquid start seeping from his eyes.

 _(I headcanon Meta as Nightmare's son/heir. Also my gijinka Customer Service has prosthetics to imitate the leg gag from the anime somewhat)_


End file.
